


Perfectly Preserved Pie

by PatrickBatemansLittleChow



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Comedy, Drug Addiction, Drugs, Food, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 19:18:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6718390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatrickBatemansLittleChow/pseuds/PatrickBatemansLittleChow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quick fic based on Tallahassee's quest for Twinkies in Zombieland. This story follows a drug loving hippie, who's only dream is to get a slice of Pie from the Port-A-Diner. When their first attempt is foiled by the Great War, our hungry hero hides out in a Pulowski Preservation shelter- only to succumb to the radiation and become a ghoul. a few centuries later, and the quest begins again, with out Hero seeking only one thing...<br/>A single slice of the Perfectly Preserved Pie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfectly Preserved Pie

 

  -Saturday, October 23rd, 2077-

  "C'mon..." I murmured, my nose pressed to the glass of the Port-A-Diner. I popped another Mentat, chewing it methodically as I watched the claw once more descend on the delicious morsel within. A generous slice of pie, smothered in cherry sauce with a beautiful dollop of whipped cream adorning it like a crown. The claw touched the sides of the plate, and I held my breath. The internal gears whirred, as the claw was pulled upwards. One edge of the plate lifted, the whipped cream jiggling slightly...And...

  The plate clattered, leaving the Pie to settle back onto its pedestal

  "Get a job, Hippie!" some suit yelled from his car. 

  "Get some perspective, man." I mumbled, pushing the button one more time. Hands shaking, I reached into my pocket for the bottle of Day Trippers. Again, I watched the claw do it's dance, lowering itself to the awaiting dessert. "You got this claw." I said, tapping on the glass gently. "I believe in you, Port-A-Diner." 

  I shook the bottle of chem's, estimating I had three left. I contemplated saving them, considering the Mentat's were still coursing through. I weighed my options for a moment, tossing both the bottle and the tin gently in the air. "Mentats, Trippers...Mentat's, Trippers, Mentat's-" 

  A clinking sound came from the machine, pulling back my attention. Sure enough, the pie was ascending, clutched delicately in the claws mechanical fingers. 

  "Yesssss!" my heart leapt in my chest, and my stomach growled as the promise of a sweet treat drew nearer. 

  Then the ground shook beneath my feet, a daunting orange cloud rose from the horizon, and a boom resonated throughout the quiet street. The machine trembled, and the picture-perfect pie slipped from the Claw's grasp. It tumbled in the air, only finding rest on the lower shelf of the Port-a-Diner. 

  "NO!" I wailed, feeling my eyes well with tears. I sank to the ground, my forehead resting on the cool glass as I mourned the fallen dessert. "Damn you, General Atomic's...Damn you to hell..." I heard the distant sound of air raid sirens, and screams coming from the edge of the city. I raised my eyes to the sky, taking a whiff of the smoky air. 

  "Sulfur...Maybe some nuclear material..." I sighed, realizing what was happening. "Damn nukes..." I murmured, crawling across the pavement and into one of the Pulowski shelters. I fiddled in my pocket for a quarter, pushing it into the slot in the wall. The door wooshed closed, and a calming female voice sounded on the shelter speakers. 

  "Welcome to the Pulowski Preservation Shelter. Wait for Radiation to clear. Enjoy your stay!" 

  I flicked the top off the Day Tripper bottle, and peered inside. 5 pinkish pills greeted me. 

  “Awwwwwwww yeah.” I chuckled, shaking a pill into my hand. I swallowed it, and leaned back to let it kick in, suddenly feeling very sleepy. 

 

   -Monday, October 31st, 2287-

  Once the last Day Tripper cleared my system, I felt the dreaded burn in my stomach. The tugging at my lungs, the ache that rested in the pit of my chest...I needed more chem's...I didn't remember when the mentat's ran out, or how long exactly I'd been waiting out the radiation. All I knew was that I was hungry, and still craving pie. I knew I'd have to risk the radiation eventually, but didn't anticipate the actual prospect of getting up from the floor of the shelter. All that effort just to possibly get wrecked by some invisible shit in the air? 

  "Nah..." I said aloud. I breathed deeply, and settled back once more. Though I didn't relax long. My stomach growled, and my brain demanded more chem's. 

  "Alright alright!" I wobbled to my feet, gripping the smooth metal walls for balance as I stood on my stiff legs. I squinted against the gloom, trying to make out the illuminated date on the small screen. 

  October 31st, 2287. 

  "Well that can't be right." I tapped against the screen, hoping it would change. Instead it hissed and cut out with an electric snap. The doors wooshed open, and I screamed in pain as sun assaulted my unadjusted eyes. 

  "Mother of Jesus!" I rolled out of the shelter and out onto the rough pavement. I flailed a moment, groaning as I was warmed by the sun's rays. Once I was accustomed to the light, I sat up and took a quick note of my surroundings. Obviously the bombs had done a number on the commonwealth, as the road was torn up, poles were knocked over, and cars sat idly, rusted and useless. I looked forlornly at the Port-A-Diner, filled with moldy food, save the still bright red remains of the Pie. I put a hand to the glass, furrowing my brows at the dessert's mangled corpse. "I'll get a piece of that pie." I whispered. I brushed myself off, and tried to remember where I'd seen another Port-A-Diner. 

  "Fenway..." I said slowly. There was a Port-A-Diner at Fenway Park. I Only remembered it because it was a hot-spot for chem delivery, and often housed a couple jet inhalers in the retrieval door. I glanced into the surprisingly blue sky in attempt to get my bearings and decide on a direction. 

  "I'll go...Hmm...Nnnnnnnnnn-West!" I turned on my heel, and followed the cracked road west, in hopes of finding a kindly soul, a lone port-a-diner, or a stash of chems. 

 

  An hour or so into the trek and all I came across were some skeletons and a bunch of junk. I couldn't imagine where everyone had gone. I was fine, I had to think other people crawled into their own Pulowski Paradise Pods. I felt a sudden paranoia, as I feared I could be the last person alive, but chocked it up to withdrawal. 

  "I gotta get clean." I said to myself. "But...After the pie." I nodded in agreement to my own statement, and continued to follow the road. I saw a cluster of shabby looking buildings, and heard the faint whir of machinery ahead. Curious, I quickened my pace. All the houses were rundown, with crumbling walls and peeling paint, and again not another person in sight. 

  "Faaar out." 

  I jumped at the voice, taking cover behind a fallen tree. I peered over it, scanning the vacant field for the source. A Mister Handy unit jetted lazily from behind a barn, clanking noisily as it went. "Groovy." It droned, in a tinny pitch. It was quite rusted, and sparks spouted from its vacant eye socket. I relaxed at the sight of it, and hopped the tree to introduce myself. 

  "Hey there." I chimed, jogging after the unit. 

  "Whoa, man!" the robot said, but didn't even stop to acknowledge me. I scratched my head at the bot, glancing into the barn he circled. Inside was A workbench, some metal buckets, a computer...

  "Chem cooler!" I exclaimed, darting at the heaven-sent blue container. I fiddled with the lid, digging past some melted ice packs to the treasures beneath. I tossed the psycho, and pocketed the half-full tin of berry mentats, the bottle of daytrippers, and the two vials of Daddy-O. "Daddy-O, huh? Must be what that robots on." 

  "Faaar out!" he said again. 

  I drifted to the computer, typing gingerly on the keyboard. There was a Mr Handy control option, with the settings 'Just be' and 'Guard'. Not wanting to deal with a rogue robot, I let the settings be, and meandered around the lot. The Mister Handy hovered close by, continuing his drawl of "faar out" and "Groovy". I found myself smiling at the robot, glad to have the silence filled by another voice. I rummaged through the other houses, picking up a few more chems and an untouched bottle of Nuka Cola. And in the spirit of Halloween, a faded goblin mask. I put it on and once more approached the Mr Handy. 

  "How do I look?" I asked. 

  "Groovy!" 

  Scrawled across the robot's dented body was the name Professor Goodfeels. "Cool name." I noted. 

  The robot twitched, but said nothing more. 

  "Tell you what, Professor Goodfeels. You're coming with me." 

  "Faaar out!" 

M   I smiled, and headed back to the barn. With some duct tape, and a few carefully twisted bits of rubber, I fashioned a sort of leach for Goodfeels, and wrapped it around one of his appendages. "Alright. Let's go get some pie." 

  With the robot in tow, I wandered on, deciding to try going southeast. 

  It wasn't long until i heard gunshots, and became inflated with hope. Gunshots meant people! Eagerly, I dragged Goodfeels behind me, who droned "Whoa, man!" 

  It wasn't until I actually saw the people with the guns that I realized something. People with guns were often bad people. I felt fear rush through me, and I froze in place. The gun-guys turned on me, and zeroed their aim. 

  “Shit shit shit!” I dove behind a car, pulling my knees to my chest. 

“Whoa, man! Whoa, man!” Goodfeels panicked, bullets bouncing off his metal body. 

  “You can't hide forever!” The assailant yelled. 

  “I shoulda taken that psycho!” 

  There was a spray of gunshots, and the sound of three bodies hitting the ground.I poked my head up over the car, and saw a woman clad in a blue jumpsuit and leather pauldrons crouched before the fallen gun-guys. 

  “Whoa, man.” Goodfeels droned, catching the attention of the killer. She came towards us, a dangerous looking rifle in her hands. 

  “Who's there?” She asked, aiming at us. 

  “Okay okay...Easy.” I stood up from my cover, lifted my goblin mask, and raised my hands in the air. “I-I don’t have a gun or anything.” 

  She narrowed her eyes at me, but lowered her gun. “Hmph. That’s pretty stupid.” 

  “Hey...I just got out of the shelter. Didn’t have time to loot.” 

  “Wait a second...What do you mean you ‘Just got out’?” 

  “Well I waited out the radiation and I was hungry. I came out to get some pie.” 

   The woman looked to the ground, looking worried. “I uh...I don't know how to tell you this but you were in there for 200 years.” 

   “Come on.” I chuckled. “I’m high, but I’m definitely not high enough to buy that crap.” 

   “Look around, you junky.” The woman snapped. “This is the product of 2 centuries of radioactive filth. And you're the cream of the filth crop.” 

   “That's not very nice. Just ‘cause I do a few chems doesn't mean I'm filth.” 

   “No...I mean you're a ghoul.” 

   “Yeah.” I laughed, pulling my mask down. “It's cool, right? There was a werewolf too but...I don't think I could get the howl down.” 

   The woman rolled her eyes at me, but didn't comment further. “You're going to die without a gun.” She dug around in her bag, and tossed a pistol at me. 

    “Oh shit...I've never fired a gun before. Not a real one.” 

    “You jumped the draft didn’t you?”

    “They didn't want me. I couldn't get clean enough for them. Besides...I don’t turn 18 until April.” 

    “Are you going to be alright?” She asked. 

    “Yeah of course. I'm going to Fenway. Could you point me in the right direction?” 

    “It's not called Fenway anymore. It's diamond city. Whatever you're looking for probably isn't there.” 

    “I'm looking for a port-a-diner.” 

   The look the woman gave me was a mixture of annoyance and pure unabashed anger. “Are you…” she squeezed her eyes shut and took a long aggravated breath. “You won't be able to get in there anyway. No ghouls allowed.” 

   “I'll take the mask off.” I said. 

   The woman rolled her eyes. “Actually you better keep it on. Just...Get There today. Diamond city is south-east from here. Go down Highway 8...or what's left of it. Follow the signs once you get in the city. You can't miss it.” 

    “What about the port-a-diner?”

    “Dugout Inn. It's to the right.” 

    “And there's a pie in it right?” 

    “Yes. There's a radiated chemical soaked piece of shit in there.” 

    “Hey...No reason to be mean. The Port-A-Diner pie is a fine product.” 

    “If something looks that good after two centuries of nuclear fallout it is not a fine product.” 

    Goodfeels buzzed impatiently, and made a low grumbling noise. 

   “I think he needs fuel.” 

   “I have some flamer fuel…” The woman said, fishing in her satchel. “I don’t know what that will do to him though.” 

   “He’s a tough machine. It’ll be fine.” I took the red bottle, and lifted the robots fuel hatch. “Bottoms up, Professor!” I said, dumping the contents into his tank. 

    His ocular appendages widened to their full capacity, and Goodfeels began to vibrate in place. 

   “FAAAR OUT!” He rattled, and jetted forward. I helpless tumbled after him, my lungs quickly kicking at my chest as I chased after the robot. 

    “Thanks for your help...Ma'am!” I called over my shoulder at the woman. 

    “Name’s Nora. You’re welcome, you freak.” 

  
  


   -A few hours later, Diamond City-

  I approached the emerald green doors of the park, a rush of homesickness washing over me. I remembered the carefree days of my childhood, sitting in the stands with my dad, a cold soda clenched in one hand and an eager mitt on the other. I would squint against the high sun, waiting for a home run to come my way. But it never did. The summer days waned ever onward and I never caught a ball. 

  I remembered the summer I turned seventeen and my dad came knocking on my door asking if I’d go to the fall training game with him. 

  I shoved the inhaler of jet under my pillow, and with wide eyes I’d said “Maybe next time, Dad.” 

   That morning I went off to meet with some friends near the Pulowski Shelter square. The day the bombs fell…

   I reached under my mask and wicked away the tears gathered there. Suddenly the pie meant so much more. It wasn't just a tasty treat anymore. It was the last pure thing left in a world ravaged by hatred and suffering. The final reminder that the world used to be something good, and that maybe it could be again. 

  Inflated with new purpose, I squared myself to the gate and gripped Good feels’ leash tighter. “Come on, Professor. Let’s get that pie.” 

  I passed the guards outside, who donned the ancient chest plates and helmets of the old Red Sox. They narrowed their gazes at me from behind their cages, but let me enter. I descended into the dark tunnel, keeping my eyes fixed on the light ahead. 

   “Faaar out.” Goodfeels rattled as we crossed the barrier into the field. Shacks towered up from the field, neon lights jutted out from their hastily constructed walls. People bustled in center field, smoke danced up from the stacks atop the roofs of each building. 

    “Far out, indeed.” I said, whistling under my breath. As I climbed down the stairs to the ground level of the stadium, a little girl on a box yelled out; 

    “Extra extra! Is your neighbour really human? We have the exclusive!” 

    I stopped in front of her, tilting my head slightly. 

    “Hey there. Celebrating halloween?” She asked hopping down from her perch. 

    “Oh...Yeah. I’m a goblin.” I said sheepishly, digging the toe of my shoe into the dirt. “Or...a ghoul if you prefer.” 

    “You better not be a ghoul. Ghoul’s aren't allowed in Diamond City.” 

    “Why does everyone keep saying that?” I asked. “I mean it’s only a mask-”

    “Hey!” Someone yelled. 

    I looked from the little girl to the source of the interruption. A young woman, dressed in a tattered red leather coat and a newsboy hat with a tag tucked on the side that read ‘Press’. 

    She jerked her chin at the young girl. “Nat...Help me unjam the motor on presser 2, would ya?”

    “Sure thing, Piper.” Nat responded. 

    “Who’s this clown?” 

    “I’m a goblin.” I protested. 

    The woman, Piper, raised a single brow and looked me up and down. 

    “Well that gravelly voice and those wrinkled up hands say ghoul.” 

    “Huh?” I looked down at my digits, inspecting them. “Nah I just went swimming a while ago. The bridge was out.” 

   “Whatever you say, Rad-head.” Piper teased. “I suggest you finish your business here quick. Before the guards get nosey about what you look like under that mask. 

   “I look fine.” I replied, almost angry. “Could you tell me where the Dugout Inn is?” 

    “Down the street. To your right.” Piper said, nodding to a point in the distance. 

    “Thanks.” I said. 

    “Groovy!” Goodfeels said. 

    “What’s up with him?” Piper noted. 

    “I dunno. I think he got into some Daddy-O.” 

    “You don’t say.” 

    “Anyway. Thanks for your help, Miss Piper.” I gave her a gracious nod and continued through Diamond City. It wasn't long until I saw the red neon sign marking ‘The Dugout Inn’. I tied Good feels to a post, and had to stop myself from skipping inside. I pushed open the door, looked to my right and…

   There it was, in all of it’s rusted glory…

   A Port-A-Diner. With a piece of pie sitting daintily inside. 

   I slammed against the glass, marvelling at the beautiful dessert. I reached into my pocket, withdrawing the still sealed bottle of daytrippers. I tore away the plastic wrap, and shook a single pill into the palm of my hand. 

    “Couldn’t hurt…” I pondered, popping it into my mouth. I stared intently at the pie, taking a long breath. My finger hovered over the button, shaking in anticipation. 

    “3...2...1…” I pressed the button, my heart leaping. “Pie time.” 

    The claw came down, seeming to take ages to reach the plate. It’s steel fingers surrounded the red pie, creaking as the old joints came back to life. The flat ends of the claw curled beneath the plate, and a bead of sweat dripped down my face, my breath quickly heating up the inside of the plastic mask. 

   “Come on…” I whispered, not daring to blink. The plate lifted ever so slightly on one end. I made a fist, methodically knocking on the glass. “Come on…”

    Another side lifted, and the pie tilted in response. The whipped cream on top danced from the movement, quivering with anticipation just like me. I stabbed the third side with my gaze, daring it to disobey my wishes. The laws of physics against me, I prayed silently to the laws dictating luck. I felt the day tripper take hold of my system, the room bursting into magnificent blues and golds. The plate was suddenly floating upward, all three claws gripping it firmly. 

   “Yes!!” I gasped, a single tear rolling down my cheek as it drifted to the conveyor belt. It was ceremoniously lowered to the belt, rolling onwards through to the retrieval hatch. It gave a ding, and my beating heart relaxed in my chest. 

   Finally...The Pie was in my grasp. I eased open the door, staring into the cold compartment of the Port-A-Diner. The pie stared back, beckoning me to take a bite. I eased my mask up, and lifted the plate to my nose for a big whiff. 

   “Cherry.” I whispered slowly. In a day-tripper haze, I looked to the other patrons of the Inn, who stared flabbergasted back at me. 

    “I finally got it.” I said dreamily. 

    “Ghoul! Get ‘em!” 

    Somewhere amidst the pie-high I found myself running, and leaping, and dodging, with Goodfeels in tow. When the drugs wore off, I was toeing the edge of a fallen skyscraper, holding the pie in two hands while Goodfeels emitted static. 

   I drew in the fresh air, looking down on the destroyed city of boston. So much destruction...So many deaths...Yet this pie survived. I sat down on the edge of the building, letting my feet dangle in the breeze. 

   Good feels rattled, and started broadcast music. 

   ‘ _ When Madam Pompadour was on a ballroom floor, Said all the gentlemen obviously, "The madam has the cutest personality"’ _

__ “Huh. I haven't heard this song in ages.” Humming along, I picked up the pie for the long-awaited first bite. Eye’s closed, mouth watering, I sank my teeth into the creamy filling, and felt the cherry sauce gush from the corners of my mouth. I audibly moaned, feeling a kind of high I hadn’t felt from any chem I’d taken. I took another bite, which was even more fantastic than the last.  

  ‘ _ So don'tcha say, "I'm smart and have the kindest heart" Or, "What a wonderful sister I'd be", Just tell me, how you like my personality!’  _

__ The last morsel of pie settled in my stomach, leaving me on cloud 9. I leaned back, arms spread, staring into the golden dusk sky. 

   “‘Baby, you’ve got the cutest.’” I sang, licking the last streaks of icing from my fingers. “Personality _ yyyyyyyy _ !” 

 


End file.
